


Genius

by mellish



Category: Death Note
Genre: Drabble, Education, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-06
Updated: 2008-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellish/pseuds/mellish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles that deal with genius and its less-appreciated permutations.  Written in 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genius

**Author's Note:**

> Written for week #23, School, at [dn_contest](community.livejournal.com/dn_contest).

He doesn't know what makes it worth it, but he keeps at it anyway: acing tests, completing projects, raising his hand to recite the immaculate answers which are _always_ ready on his tongue. When the teacher tells the rest of the class to applaud him for his brilliant explanation, he slathers on a smile so sinfully fake that he feels nearly guilty for thinking, _what a bunch of idiots_.

_Nearly_ being the keyword.

Seeing a 100 on his scorecards does not really feel like a reward; hearing the adults go on about his bright prospects bores him to death. Even the idea that he is most probably the smartest boy in Japan is not particularly gratifying. The admiration of his peers, the certainty of the future, the satisfaction from doing a job well done – to be honest, he isn't working hard for any of those.

But he's bored, and he's capable. Until a more interesting game comes along, there seems nothing else to do.

\---

"Miss Amane."

"Yes?"

"I really have a problem with you referring to yourself in third person all the time." Misa's English teacher has a bad perm and glasses with fake plastic rhinestones, and she is waving around Misa's English homework like something smells bad. "You have to use the first person. _I_."

"Yes, Misa understands."

"No, no. You say _I_ understand."

"Yes, Misa is saying that she understands."

"No!" Her eyes are popping out of her rhinestone-studded glasses. "_I_ understand! I!!"

Misa smiles and nods and her head, pleased. "It is good that ma'am understands."

\---

They're out of black thread in the craft store. _Out of black thread_. This idea horrifies him so much that he gapes blankly at the saleslady for a full minute before he realizes that his mouth is open way too wide, and that doing so is bad for both hygienic and physical purposes. He shuts his mouth. The saleslady seems to be trying not to laugh, and this makes him feel rather silly. "Sorry, kid, you heard me. It's totally out of stock."

"B-but," he splutters. "It's _black_! How can you run out of black!" Especially when he's almost done with his project already – his stupid girly home economics project which he was _forced_ to do because the work education subject was all full, and all the boys at school today had called him pansy and poked fun at him for bringing around a sewing kit, which they then tossed into the gutter – and, and it was just bad luck that mom had used the leftover thread at home to fix up the rip in her pantyhose – all he has to do is another meter of running stitch, they _cannot_ run out now -

"I think there's still some navy thread, it's close enough. You want me to go check?" She looks at him over the counter, a distinct look of pity in her eyes. He takes a deep breath.

"Yes, thank you very much."

It's awful. He really _tries_ not to be bothered by it, but in the end, the difference between black and dark blue remains glaringly ugly. He ends up repeating the whole project, stitch for navy stitch.

\---

It's still dark outside when Roger posts the results of their latest exams, but that doesn't stop Mello from snatching it off the bulletin board the minute the coast is clear. In the dim lights of the hallway – because all these Whammy kids are _freakin' babies_ who can't sleep in the dark – he scans the paper, eyes bulging when he catches the score on top.

**Near 100**

and right under, as if to underscore the pain,

**Mello 98**

It takes all of his willpower to tack up the paper nice and neat, exactly as it was. He marches back to his room with stiff steps, embarrassed and angry and feeling a fool. What was he hoping for, anyway? It always turns out like this. He feels around his pillowcase for his emergency chocolate bar, and unwraps the biggest one. Then he takes a huge, satisfying crunch, imagining it as Near's annoying little head.

\---

L falls out of his chair four times before the professor tells him that he is causing a disturbance.

L, who is not really L because he is currently undercover, apologizes for the disturbance he has caused.

"But there is something wrong with this chair," he says.

"Ryuuga," the professor answers, very careful because regardless of his appearance, this boy _did_ score perfectly on his entrance exam, "I think it might be the way you're _sitting_ in it. There, uh, there doesn't seem to be enough space for you to squat like that."

"An interesting theory. Perhaps compressing myself would make a difference?"

Ignoring his classmates' disbelieving stares, he clambers back into the seat and tucks his knees up again, squeezing them tighter together and wrapping his arms around them. He rests his chin on the slope of his knees and smiles a weird little smile. There's an awed silence for a while, then the teacher coughs and resumes the lesson, trying hard to act as if all his students are perfectly normal.

It works for half an hour. Then 'Ryuuga' gets cramps, or says he does anyway, and falls out of his chair yet again.


End file.
